


Under the Armor

by seimaisin



Series: Evie Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s a whole other person hiding inside Cullen, one she only meets once their clothes come off.</i>
</p><p>In which Cullen is a lot naughtier than he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](http://commandercouslands.tumblr.com/post/114824072117/ok-but-naughty-cullen). Thank you to eightforawish and fleurdeliser for the encouragement/beta!

There’s a whole other person hiding inside Cullen, one she only meets once their clothes come off for the first time. She’s not sure how the transformation happens, the change from blushing, stammering ex-Templar to the man who whispers such filthy things in her ear while his fingers work some kind of magic between her legs. He’s not what she bargained for, not by a long shot.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

She finds the words to ask him about it after they’ve been together a couple of times. He laughs, and the blush creeps back onto his face, an odd sight after the positions they were just in. “You know,” he says, “it just always seemed to me that sex talk should remain between the people having it with each other.” 

But when you’re the one having sex with him, Evie finds, you’re in for more trouble than you ever bargained for.

*

She’s sitting in Josephine’s office, trying to maintain her pleasant expression while an Orlesian nobleman (whose name she has already forgotten) blathers on about his elven servants being some kind of threat to the Chantry. He’s an idiot, and Josephine will somehow let him know that in a way that makes him think being insulted by the Inquisition is a gift. But until he’s done ranting, they’re both stuck here with hopefully sincere looking smiles plastered on their faces. 

Evie hears the door open behind her, and Cullen’s voice. “Excuse me, I just need to speak to the Inquisitor for a moment.” 

She’s ridiculously grateful for the excuse to stand up and turn around. She’s even more grateful that her back is to the table when Cullen leans over and whispers in her ear. “Your breasts look wonderful in that shirt. It makes me think about how they sway when you’re on your hands and knees and I’m fucking you senseless.” She can feel her cheeks flame as the image lodges in her head. His lips brush lightly against her ear as he finishes, “Meet me upstairs when you’re done.”

“Very well,” she says aloud when he pulls back. The look on his face isn’t quite a smirk, but there’s one just under the surface. “Thank you for the information.”

She knows she’s still red when she sits down again, because Josephine cocks an eyebrow at her and smiles. And thankfully, she doesn’t protest when Evie turns to their guest and says, “What is it that we can do for you? I apologize for the abruptness, but that was an issue I must address soon.” 

That spawns another monologue, so Evie can only sigh and press her thighs together a bit tighter. 

*

Cullen’s people are quick to learn to knock loudly and wait a few moments before entering his office when they’ve seen Evie go inside. She’s grateful, because it gives her time to, say, scramble off his lap and smooth her clothing down. Everyone probably knows what they do when they’re alone, but she likes to pretend it’s not obvious that Cullen was just nuzzling her neck and stroking the inside of her thigh suggestively. And most of his guards and messengers are good at keeping their faces blank, even when they catch her adjusting her collar or him shifting in his seat to relieve the tightness around his groin. 

But today, when she leaves his office, she notices a lot more smirks than usual. When she stops to greet people on her way across the yard, everyone seems to be amused by something. She’s not sure what until she reaches the war room and Leliana. “Visiting the commander, I take it?”

“What? Why?”

Leliana giggles and touches Evie’s neck. She races to the mirror on the far wall to see a large dark mark, far enough forward to be clear of her hair, high enough that no collar can hide it. The mark is emphasized by a wide red splotch, the after effects of stubble scraping across her pale skin. When she looks at it, she can almost feel Cullen’s mouth again. “He did that on purpose,” she mutters, touching the spot gently.

“Men,” Leliana says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “They do like to mark their territory. Much like dogs.”

“I am not territory!”

“Men,” Leliana repeats, laughing.

Later, she tries to scold him for it, but doesn’t get very far. It’s hard to stay mad when his fingers are as talented as they are.

*

Evie doesn’t often wear skirts around Skyhold, but this morning, it’s all she has clean - the staff has been running ragged, taking care of a large delegation from Cumberland that seems to be in no hurry to go home, and she’s trying to cut down on some of their work by forgoing laundry and the daily cleaning of her personal quarters. It’s a nice day, anyway, and it feels good to have the breeze on her skin as she walks from place to place.

During the daily war room meeting, she can feel Cullen’s gaze on her even when she’s not speaking. When they finish, he puts a hand on her shoulder before she can walk out of the room. “A moment of your time, Inquisitor?” 

The door is barely shut when Evie finds herself backed up to it and hoisted up until her legs automatically hook behind Cullen’s back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you walked into the room,” he murmurs, slipping a hand between them and stroking her through the thin fabric covering her between her legs. 

She gets wet in an embarrassingly short amount of time. He has that power over her, to turn her on with barely a brush of his fingers. When he presses gently on her clit, she whines softly. “Do you want this?” he asks, even as he reaches down to fumble with his buckle. “Josephine will likely hear us rattling the door.”

“I think Josephine knows we have sex,” she says with a giggle.

“Yes, but has she ever heard us? You’re not exactly quiet, you know.”

“Sorry?”

“You think I mind? Maker’s breath,” he breathes, as he frees himself from his pants, “there’s little I like as well as hearing you cry my name when you come.”

“Cullen,” she says, resting her forehead against his, “fuck me. Now.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He does indeed fuck her hard enough to rattle the large oak doors. And if Josephine hears Evie’s high pitched scream, she doesn’t give them any indication when they walk through her office. She does laugh, however, when Evie runs back through several minutes later (blushing furiously) to retrieve her smalls from the war room floor. 

*

She can give as good as she gets, when she’s in the mood for it. She finds a lovely thrill in kneeling in the space underneath Cullen’s desk, playing with his cock while he sits in his chair. To be honest, she likes taking him in her mouth no matter the setting; he’s just the right size to fill her mouth, to feel his tip brushing the back of her throat while burying her nose in coarse curls. And the noises he makes when she does so - strangled curses and incoherent moans, as he tangles a hand in her hair and tugs just hard enough for her to feel it - make her feel more powerful than any Fade rift can. She doesn’t even mind the ache in her jaw afterwards, though she’d love to figure out how to break his vaunted Templar control more quickly. 

Her head is bobbing with increasing speed - she can feel him getting close - when the door to his office suddenly bursts open. She has no time to react before he pushes her farther back under his desk and scoots his chair in, trapping her with his legs. She can only watch his hand fumble to shove his cock back into his pants as he barks, “What??”

She doesn’t recognize the voice that answers - it has to be someone new, to not know the unwritten rule about not interrupting the Commander’s, erm, “meetings” with the Inquisitor. “Urgent communication, sir, it came from Sister Leliana’s ravens …”

“Is Corypheus attacking right now?”

“Um. No, sir.”

Evie can’t resist. He’s been wholly unsuccessful at containing his swollen cock, so she leans forward and licks between the fingers holding it in place. She feels his whole body tense. “If there is not an army of Venatori standing right outside our gates, the message can wait. And next time, _knock_.” 

As the poor, confused messenger stutters his understanding, Evie takes his head into her mouth and sucks. 

Cullen’s growl sounds rather like a creature she’d encounter in the Western Approach. “ _Out_!”

When the door closes again, he pulls back, allowing Evie to crawl out from underneath the desk. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“I look forward to it.” 

She does take care to leave by another door. She doesn’t really need new recruits thinking too hard about their Inquisitor in quite that way.

*

He catches her in her quarters, after a particularly frustrating meeting with Josephine and the man she’d sent to Ansburg for a treaty. “I need to go for a walk,” she says as he stands by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. “I have to clear my head before I can do anything else.”

“I have a better idea.”

“I’m listening.”

Cullen crosses the room and sits down behind her desk. “Take off your pants.”

“Excuse me?”

He leans back, the corners of his lips turning upward. “You heard me. Off.”

She briefly considers protesting, but it’s hard to say no to that expression on his face. So, with a thrill, she steps out of her pants. “Smalls too,” he tells her, then pats the desk in front of him when she complies. “Come sit.”

“The door is unlocked,” she reminds him.

“I know.” When she steps close enough, he puts his hands on her hips and pulls her to the desk, then pushes at her until she’s sitting. He pushes her legs apart until she’s completely open to him. The breeze blowing in from the open doors creates goosebumps on her skin, but he simply holds here there for a long moment, his eyes sweeping from her cunt up to her face. “Relax,” he says, smiling, “Consider this your afternoon break.”

He brings one of Evie’s legs up to drape over his shoulder, and lets the other one fall to the desk. He then bends over and presses his lips to her core. It’s like lightning dancing up and down her skin, especially when his tongue flicks out and worries at her clit. He’s taken the time to learn her most sensitive areas, so he knows exactly where to press just that much harder in order to cause a wave of pure pleasure to roll through her body. All she can do is lay back on her desk and whimper at the impossibly hot feeling of his mouth covering the most sensitive bits of her body.

The sound of it is obscene; the wet smack of his lips, the deep, guttural sounds he makes that send shivers up and down her spine. Her thighs burn from the stretch, as he keeps her leg slung over her shoulder, and the other one pulls downward to keep her balanced on the edge of the desk. But even the discomfort contributes to the pleasure - her whole body has been condensed to these physical sensations, the sensual assault he’s waging. 

So lost is she that she nearly misses the sound of the door opening. “Inquisitor?” a voice calls up the stairs. “Are you available for -”

“No!” Cullen’s tongue swipes lazily up and down her clit. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. When she can trust her voice again, she says, “I’m not decent, please come back in … uh … a half hour.” 

“Yes, your worship.” 

When the door closes, she starts to giggle. A moment later, she feels his breath on her thigh as he pulls back to laugh. “Maker,” she says, taking a deep breath, “what does it say about me that nearly getting caught turns me on even more?”

“It says you’re impossibly naughty, and that I clearly need to take you in hand.” 

She glances down at him just as he slips two fingers inside her. They part just enough to stretch her pleasantly, and she bites her lip. “Which one of us is impossibly naughty again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

When he withdraws his fingers and sits back in the chair, letting her leg drop, she whines. “What are you doing?”

“Well, clearly you have work to be done …”

“Don’t you even dare,” she warns him, “or I won’t so much as kiss you for the next month.”

“Do you need to come that badly?” He crosses his arms over his chest and grins at her.

“You absolute bastard.” She sits up and pulls her legs together - a mistake, because the movement just makes her shake with unspent desire. When he starts to laugh, she kicks out at him. “If you’re not going to finish, get out, I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll take care of myself for at least a month, and you’ll have to deal with your own hand.” 

“I could never be that cruel,” he promises, standing up and leaning over her. She keeps the scowl on her face when he kisses the tip of her nose, but it doesn’t survive when he grasps her buttocks and pulls her from the desk to stand flush against him. “Turn around,” he murmurs, “and bend over the desk.”

That’s a command she’s all too happy to comply with. 

When her next meeting begins, her desk is still a mess of papers, but at least she can sit back in her chair and smile genuinely at the woman from Jader. The ache she feels while sitting is as pleasant a feeling as she can imagine.

*

“I don’t understand,” Sera says one day, as they walk the dirt roads of the Exalted Plains. “You and Commander Curly-head. Do you two even do it? I can’t see him, like, being any good at it. He blushes too much.”

When Evie bursts out laughing, Sera simply glares. “You don’t have to get it,” Evie says. “Because I understand perfectly.”


End file.
